“Don’t bite my head off. I’m just the messenger.”
Gaping at my reflection in the vanity, I shoved my ear against the door in a desperate attempt to hear why the woman who’d apparently been goddamn stalking him, had died in my hotel.
But he was dead silent. And fuck that old adage—curiosity would not kill the Kitty, not after I’d just survived a bomb blast!
I dragged open the door, uncaring that I stood in nothing but a towel and had toothpaste froth around my mouth.
Stan spun to face me, eyes tracing every goddamn inch I’d exposed to him.
That look had me in a chokehold.
The heat that flickered to life in his expression was something I had never witnessed before, not even last night after the best kiss of my life.
Everywhere he looked, I felt it like a visceral touch.
And it made me yearn for things I shouldn’t crave, not when he was talking about a stalker/murderer/corpse who was a mutual acquaintance of his and Star Sullivan’s and who appeared to be the reason for/behind that horrible blast last night.
The only thing I could do was refuse to show how he affected me.
But thatpinch,deep in my core, returned with avengeance.
I sucked in a breath, ignoring my hormones when they urged me to drop the towel. “What’s going on?”
“Yeah, that’s Kitty,” Stan answered, but not to me. To Star. That didn’t piss me off. Nope. Not one little fucking bit. “She’s upset. Justifiably. We’re leaving in ninety minutes, Star. And don’t tell her brothers. They’re safe with me. We’re heading to Vegas. Yes, this is me giving you their location so you don’t have to send another fucking assassin to stalk me. What the hell were you thinking anyway?” He pinched the bridge of his nose.“Okay, you weren’t wrong.”
“Stan?”
The quiver in my voice had him flinching. “Look, I have to go. I need to explain things…” Annoyance crept into his expression. “I’ll send you pictures of the bomb sites but nothing more. I’m not getting involved. Fine. Yeah. FINE.” Growling, he cut the call and his arm jerked like he wanted to throw his cell against the wall. “God, she’s irritating.”
“Were you talking to Star Sullivan?” At his grumpy assent, I rasped, “I wouldn’t know if she was irritating. I’ve only ever seen her a handful of times and I’ve never met her. She and Conor don’t go to church.”
That had him focusing on me again. And it was intense. Making me realize that the eyefucking from before contained the scantest of scant percents of his impressive attention span.
Now, I had 100% of it and there was no hiding my blush as it expanded over my chest, diffusing onto my throat and face.
Fucking Irish genes.
His gaze tracked the spread of color on my being. “I’m surprised you do. You don’t seem like the church type.”
“Gives Ma comfort. I hate it.”
“My mother’s the same.” His lips pursed. “How much of that did you overhear? I thought you were in the shower. I heard running water.”
“I was brushing my teeth.”
“You shouldn’t leave the water running when you’re brushing your teeth.”
My eyes bugged. “Is this really the time for a conversation about water conservation?”
His grin was a strange combination of amused and sad. “I come from a water-poor island,duci. 70% of Sicily is at risk of desertification. So, yes. It’s always the time for that conversation.”
I huffed. “Well, as devastating as that statistic is, what’s going on, Stan?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Um, hello? I’m asking. And it’s for me to decide what I want to know.”
“You say that now…” His enigmatic gaze had me grinding my teeth. “Star learned that you were coming to Mexico?—”
